The Tragical History of Captain Sparrow
by Childe Valancourt
Summary: Jack Sparrow sails the Spanish main, but is hardly alone: not when he has to share the seas with Captain Ahab, Moby Dick, Dr. Faust, and Mephistopheles...
1. Chapter 1

The Tragical History of Captain Sparrow

Chapter One: In Which Captain Sparrow Is Astonished To Find a Companion As Miserable As Himself

The gale outside was raising a howling din akin to a pack of baying wolves and rattling the none-too-solid clapboard foundations of the pub as a gangly, ill-favoured fellow wearing a tri-cornered leather hat and sporting a bizarrely beaded beard sat down and ordered a pint of ale. The bartender, glancing at his downcast face, assumed an air of paternal concern:

"Captain Jack Sparrow! What's got ye in such a mood? I sware that ye've the look of a chap as has been keel-hauled!"

Jack Sparrow glowered. "I warrant that a keel-hauling would feel pleasant compared to what – " He stopped and maintained a stony silence, indicating a desire to nurse his alcohol and meditate in solitude. As the bartender sidled away, the gloomy pirate began to consider the events of the last few months: his foolish bargain with Davy Jones, the foolish terms of the bargain, and the still more foolish fact that he was none too eager to follow up on those terms. He ventured a glance at the palm of his hand and shuddered at the inky dark mark that lay spread thereupon: the symbol of his terrible pact. With a groan, he looked away: ah, what could any man do – _in such a black spot? _

The door to the pub was flung open with a violent sound that caused both the pirate and the bartender to start and glance up. From out of the tempestuous darkness without, they both beheld two figures attired in dark cloaks enter the little tavern, shaking the rain as best they could from off their damp garments.

"Mine Host – a tankard of mead and two flasks, if you would be so good," one of the men, the taller of the two, requested in a voice of a rich and resonant timbre.

The bartender bowed low and departed into the back as the two strangers seated themselves before the countertop, quite close to Captain Sparrow. He continued to watch them curiously with little respect for the usual rules of polite indifference that one ought to observe in the case of total strangers. The stranger who sat closest, a man of medium-height with something of a beard at his chin and a pair of miniscule golden spectacles perched atop his nose, at last happened to notice the great interest that the pirate was taking in his presence and turned to meet Captain Sparrow's impolite scrutiny.

"Do you perhaps take me for some former acquaintance?" he inquired.

Jack Sparrow shook his head. "I don't have anything else to do tonight – and watching strangers takes my mind off of my other troubles."

The stranger chuckled. "You must be in a sorry spot indeed if my friend and I are your only respite!"

Jack wished that the man hadn't brought up 'spots.' "It's nothing that I can't get out of with a little work," he replied with a little more bravado than he actually felt.

"That's the spirit!" the stranger exclaimed. "But I deplore speaking with a man before I am fully acquainted with him. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Doctor Ignatius and this is..."

As the good doctor seemed to have momentarily forgotten his companion's name, his friend swiftly stepped in. "Theophilus at your service, sir," he said with a smile like the gleaming of ice. There was a quality to his piercing gaze that was full of both a consuming weariness and a keen, discerning penetration that put Captain Sparrow little at ease. About his lips as well, there lay the delicate traces of a strange bitterness akin to the expression of a man whose tongue has tasted of wormwood and gall.

Jack shook Dr. Ignatius's hand rather limply and shifted his glance towards Theophilus, returning the latter's introduction with a half-hearted smile.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack at last said. "And I'm in the sort of trouble that I hope neither of you will ever find yourselves in."

"You've pricked my curiosity," Theophilus said. "Why don't you tell us about it? Perhaps we can help you."

"I doubt that," Jack Sparrow muttered, but – whether it was due to the ale or something else – he divulged his entire life history to the two strangers in less than a quarter of an hour.

After he had finished, both Dr. Ignatius and Theophilus appeared profoundly concerned. "Poor fellow!" Dr. Ignatius wiped his spectacles. "What a spot!"

"Indeed," Theophilus rejoined. "Though I shouldn't call it an entirely hopeless situation."

"What do you mean?" Jack blinked. "You both believe me?"

"Why not?" Dr. Ignatius appeared surprised. "I thought the _Flying Dutchman _was common knowledge!"

"You would be surprised how often these sorts of things happen – and to fellows even less imprudent than yourself," Theophilus added.

"Then you both can help me?" Jack started at the opportunity.

Dr. Ignatius and Theophilus exchanged glances pregnant with meaning.

"I don't see why not…" the doctor said at last, his eyes still upon his companion rather than the pirate. "That is, if you'll agree to give us berth upon your ship. I guarantee that nothing shall befall you whilst we are on board."

A feeling of relief utterly suffused the pirate's heart and he stood up. "Then the two of you have a place upon the _Black Pearl_. We set sail tomorrow – but not until your arrival."

"Thank you, my good fellow," Dr. Ignatius replied as Theophilus clasped Jack Sparrow's hand with a smile that warmed as much as his former countenance had chilled.

"We shall be there," Theophilus assured him.

After Captain Sparrow had departed from the premises of the tavern, the doctor and his companion returned to drinking their mead in silence. At last, Dr. Ignatius spoke:

"A fortunate happenstance indeed. If our stay was any longer in Port Royal, I would begin to fear the worse."

"Indeed, my master – your present name has afforded you a certain amount of protection, but I fear that too many men still remember the countenance of a certain Dr. John Faustus."

The doctor smiled ruefully. "But have we any hope of still pursuing that ship – the _Lady Anne?_"

"You yet seek to win your lovely Margaret?" his companion replied with a look that could very easily be observed as either sardonic or pitying.

"I do," Dr. Faustus said, with an air of resolution. "If there is hope."

"There is always hope," his companion rejoined softly. "It is only yours to take the necessary steps to effect it. I, of course, shall do all in my power to aid you."

The two men rose and as they retrieved their cloaks and made their way towards the door, the doctor clasped his companion's hand murmuring, "And I would give my soul a thousand times over for the chance to possess Margaret once again – and to retain your faithful services, my sweet Mephistopheles!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: In Which Captain Sparrow Is Introduced To A Most Unusual Crew**

"But, dear Elizabeth, I promised him that I would go," Will said as Elizabeth flashed him a look of unamused irritation.

"That may be so," she returned. "But I don't see why you must make this voyage just before our marriage."

The young blacksmith's eyes were full of apology as he replied, "Please forgive me – but I must fulfill my vow. There is something, though I don't know what it is, that has been troubling Jack recently and I can't abandon – wait, what are you doing?" For Elizabeth was rummaging in her closet and pulling down her frocks and other articles of clothing. At his question, she turned around and, rather impatiently, replied, "Well, if you're going off on this ridiculous voyage, I may as well come along to. No, don't attempt to prevent me," she continued as he opened his mouth to protest. "I don't trust Captain Sparrow in the same way that you do and I'd feel better if I just came along."

Will felt a great deal of trepidation at the idea of his fiancé braving the perils of the high seas with a crew of sailor ruffians, but there was little that he knew could be said to dissuade her from such a decision.

"Very well," he said at last. "Jack expects us tonight, so pack lightly."

* * *

It was a calm, still sea that met the _Black Pearl _as she swept at last outside of Port Royal's harbor; and it was a cool, gentle breeze that rustled the flags upon the great masts as the ship set out into the limitless gulph of twilight that had settled like a cloak about the voidless form of the sea. Jack Sparrow, spyglass in hand, spent the better part of the first few hours up until midnight in scanning that horizon and in keeping a wary eye upon the members of his crew as they busied themselves about their various tasks. For the most part, save for a few trusted worthies like Will, Elizabeth, Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Cotton (and, of course, the two curious strangers whom he had taken on the night before), the crew of the _Pearl _was unknown to Captain Sparrow and – after his last brush with mutiny – it would be a long while before he would implicitly trust a band of sailors again.

These morose thoughts fled his mind, however, when he lifted his spyglass again and saw that, dotting the horizon like a single grave period mark, there loomed a ship, dark and foreboding in her utter isolation amidst the vastness of the ocean all around her. As it was apparent that she was approaching them rather rapidly, Captain Sparrow called his men to assemble close by the cannons and to await his orders. Then – with Will Turner, Mr. Gibbs, Elizabeth Swann, and Mr. Cotton at his side – he awaited the advent of the foreign vessel.

Nor was this advent long in coming. The ship, as though hastened in that windless air by a force that seemed less that of Nature and more that of some possessed living creature, came upon them in a matter of minutes. She was a vessel of antique build and as Jack strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the crew, he saw that she lacked cannons or any sort of defensive armory at all. Truly, whatever else she was, she was not a ship of war.

"A whaling ship I'd guess, Captain," Mr. Gibbs remarked, scrutinizing her curiously. "Look at the harpoons hanging from her sides."

Jack began to contemplate just how much profit he might gain from plundering such a vessel. Just as he was about to reveal his ruminations to Mr. Gibbs, however, he was startled by the sound of a voice calling forth from the deck of the strange ship – a voice carried upon the winds like a mighty, rolling thunder from out the arsenals of Heaven itself – and these were the words spoken by that terrible voice: "Avast! _Hast thou seen the White Whale?" _

* * *

For a moment, Jack Sparrow did not know how to respond. Then, Mr. Gibbs very helpfully proffered him a trumpet through which to speak. Jack held it to his mouth and then made bold to reply with the following response:

"I haven't the foggiest notion of what you're talking about!"

The figure of a man slowly ascended from below deck and stood upon the starboard side of the whaling vessel, trumpet in hand. The flash of his eye, even at that formidable distance, caused Jack's heart to quail slightly even before the man thundered out again over the waters: "What – art thou daft to be a sailor – aye, a Captain! – and not to have heard of Moby-Dick?"

Mr. Gibbs shuddered as though a chill wind had of a sudden passed them by. "S'blood," he murmured. "The monster himself!"

"Monster?" Sparrow whispered, rather incautiously as he still had the trumpet to his mouth.

"Aye!" the strange captain returned. "And 'tis the monster that I and my men have hotly pursued many a month over oceans treacherous and vast – and will continue to pursue until we have either begored our harpoons in his brains or died ourselves in his wake! And thus I repeat again my former question: hast thou seen or heard mention of the White Whale in all thy wanderings?"

"I have not," Jack replied.

The captain instantly set his trumpet aside and signalled to his men as though bidding them to depart from the area. Mr. Gibbs whispered frantically:

"Sir, we're somewhat low on oil for our lamps. It might be a wise idea to barter with these men before they leave."

Sparrow saw the logic of this idea. "Captain!" he shouted through his trumpet. "Before you depart, may we parley with you and exchange some of our gold for some of your goods?"

From the scowl that they perceived upon his face, the captain appeared uninterested and downright opposed to such an idea. However, as he did not have his trumpet in hand and another man did, this other man replied, "Certainly – if but for a few hours."

"Now," Jack remarked dubiously. "Perhaps we shall see what all this mystery is about."

* * *

Thus it was that the captain and chief mates of the whaling vessel christened the _Pequod_ mounted the deck of the _Black Pearl _and met the bewildered countenances of that aforementioned ship with the expressions of men who are accustomed to provoking confusion. One of these men in particular, a powerfully-built man with a grey beard, piercing eyes, and a peg-leg carved from the jaw of a whale, eyed Jack with a look that seemed to suggest a certain impatience with the situation. For his part, Jack recognized him as the captain who had demanded so mysteriously after the White Whale of fabled legendry.

"I am Captain Jack Sparrow," the pirate at last said. "You are the captain of the _Pequod_, I take it?"

"Aye, that I am," the strange man replied. "Captain Ahab is my name – my house stands in Nantucket but my home is the _Pequod_ and hast been for the last two years ever since my men and I sailed from the shores of Massachusetts." As though expecting further questions, he added, "No more shall I say of myself. If you wish to barter, barter with my men. My first mate Mr. Starbuck is a man of prudence and he shall act as my surrogate to protect my whale oil from your womanish haggling."

Then, with these contemptuous words, Captain Ahab turned away and strode away towards the edge of the deck, gazing down upon the black waters as though hoping even then to catch some glimpse of his monstrous antagonist.

Jack turned towards the three men who stood before him as the remainder of the _Pequod_'s crew. One was a short man with a round, humorous face; the second was a young lad in his twenties; and the third was a tall, lean man clothed in the garb of a Quaker, with a grave, honest face and a steady gaze that seemed to denote both a gentle reserve and a stern, unyielding quality in his spirit. Yet a certain sorrow seemed to colour all of these elements in his visage and bearing, lending him an aspect of fallen grandeur.

It was this selfsame grave, solemn Quaker who spoke at last, saying, "I am the Starbuck of whom my captain spoke and I shall gladly do business with thee. What would ye have – the oil of the whale for thy lanterns or some other goods? I fear we hardly have enough for our own ship and that thou shalt have to bargain well to strike an accord that shall satisfy our needs as well as thy own."

"Would gold do?" Will asked.

"Gold?" the good Quaker replied. "No man can eat gold."

"But don't you need money to trade with the ports that you stop by?" Jack returned.

"The _Pequod_ never makes berth at any port," the smiling little man replied.

"Aye, Mr. Stubb speaks truly," Starbuck said. "Not since we stood on Nantucket's shores two years ago have our feet touched land."

"We probably have the best sea legs of any sailors on the Spanish main," the young man, who had remained silent up until then, added.

"Who are you?" Mr. Gibbs demanded.

"Call me Ishmael."

"This is ridiculous," Jack interrupted. "Why hasn't your Captain made berth anywhere?"

"He fears to leave the sea for too long a time," Starbuck replied. "We are on the very tail of the creature and if we were to turn for more than a moment from his path, we would lose the work of many months in tracing him thus far. It is only the gravest necessity that has caused us to stop and parley with thee and thine for as long as we have – for we are desperately in want of provisions. As it is, thou seest how Captain Ahab doth stride the deck in agitation, awaiting the moment when we may set sail again after the accursed creature."

Jack thought that he caught a hint of a terrible anguish and consuming weariness in the Quaker's eyes as these last words were spoken.

"When do you think the chase will be over?" Will at last ventured to ask.

"When?" Starbuck replied. "When our Saviour returns; when Hell is opened to receive her damned; when the world itself at last sinks again into the chaos and void of nothingness; _then_, perhaps, the _Pequod_ shall at last reach dry land."


End file.
